


Three's a Crowd

by lodgedinmythoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Arguments, Established Relationship, F/M, Insecurity, Jealous Steve Rogers, Language, Light Angst, Miscommunication, Not the actual doing but the discussion of, POV Steve Rogers, Possessive Steve Rogers, Threesomes, Which is also a recurring theme in my fics and idk why, it's me after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27882173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lodgedinmythoughts/pseuds/lodgedinmythoughts
Summary: “Every guy alive fantasizes about threesomes.”“Well, as if girls don’t.”Those were the words that started it all.Or, Steve overhears a conversation between you and Natasha about threesomes and it sends him into a tailspin.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 164





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> This went in so many directions I wasn't even planning but well there you go

“Every guy alive fantasizes about threesomes.”

“Well, as if girls don’t.”

Those were the words that started it all.

Steve was halfway up the stairs leading to the communal living room, having just returned from handling a hostage situation with Sam when he realized you and Natasha were talking.

He and Sam had worked alongside local law enforcement to extract the hostages to safety and apprehend the perp. It’d been a long, trying day, and his muscles ached with the faint memory of the strenuous missions he’d also embarked on earlier in the week. He was ready to hit the shower, stuff his mouth with some food, and try to convince you to come cuddle with him in bed. But the conversation he’d unwittingly walked in on had him stopping in his tracks.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me.” Natasha. The one who’d also said what she had about the…threesome situation.

Steve didn’t consider himself a prude, though he was ninety-nine percent sure the others did. He certainly had no aversion to sex or other intimate matters. Though he’d grown up in a different time, it wasn’t as though humans hadn’t been doing what humans tended to do for as long as they’d existed. It was just that they were far less outspoken about it to general society when he was growing up. It was no secret that he’d experienced some culture shock when he woke up from the ice, and the greater ease with which people seemed to speak about sex was just one aspect of it. But old habits died hard, or maybe it was just who he was. He was already a rather private person as it was.

So he stayed mum on the subject when it came up among the others. He wanted to keep that part of himself private. It was something he felt should be shared only with you. Gentleman in the streets, freak in the sheets, he supposed. He’d explored a whole new side of himself with you, and to kiss and tell would somehow feel like a betrayal.

But he’d also be lying if he didn’t admit that one major factor in why he’d never been particularly forthcoming about that part of himself was that he didn’t want the others thinking of you in that way. Sometimes it made him feel guilty knowing how completely archaic it was. But it wasn’t about actual ownership or some pile of crock about protecting your female modesty and all those other antiquated notions.

The simple fact of the matter was that he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else thinking of you with your head thrown back, neck bared for the bite of his teeth, your fingers clutching his body so you wore him like a second skin. That was for his eyes only. And if others happened to think of you sexually on their own, he supposed he had to bear it, teeth gritted all the while, but he wasn’t going to willingly contribute by verbally aiding them with a mental picture of you in the throes of passion.

“But fantasizing about it is different from actually wanting to do it, don’t you think?” you said. Steve remained frozen on the steps, careful not to make a sound so he could make out what you had to say. “Like, sure, fantasizing about being sandwiched between two hot guys who both want you and who’ll both take care of you in that way is extremely hot and all, but the actual reality of it? Maybe a little daunting for some people. For some. Maybe. Same for guys with two girls.”

The muscles in Steve’s jaw clenched. What did it say about him that he didn’t even want you to _think_ it was possible to be with two men at the same time?

“You speaking from personal experience?” Natasha said. She was no doubt only half-attempting to hold back a smirk.

Steve became aware of how his heart hammered in his chest, not to mention the nasty roiling in his gut, all in anticipation of your answer. He was fairly certain you’d never had a threesome, had never even for a second had the thought cross his mind, but now that he was presented with the actual question, the plague of uncertainty began to spread. He didn’t know what he’d do if your answer turned out to be yes.

There was silence on your end that stretched far too long for his liking.

“No,” you finally said, and he was only dimly aware of your answer when some invisible force took hold of him and had his legs carrying him up the stairs and into the lounge.

His vision was tunneled, and his breathing was probably shallow. He didn’t really know, nor did he particularly care. All he knew was that he had to find some way to put a stop to the conversation before he heard any more than he already had.

When he ascended the last step, it was to find Natasha kicked back on the sofa, arms folded across her chest, but he didn’t care about that. His real focus was you. You were in the plush armchair, back to him, but with the way he made no effort to soften his entrance, two pairs of eyes quickly moved his way.

“Steve.” You were on your feet in a second, making your way over to him and placing your hands on either side of his waist. He still wore the suit, sans the helmet and gloves, and the sleeves were pushed up to his forearms.

You gave him a chaste kiss before leaning back. “How’d it go? We saw a little via Hill’s surveillance. We saw you take out that guy before he could kill that woman. That was a close call.”

His mouth was dry, and that dark emotion still swirled uncontrollably in his chest. He had to swallow if he wanted to sound at least vaguely human when he spoke.

“She’s fine, she’s…okay now.”

The reminder of the events prior took his dark mood down just a notch. Things could’ve gone south that day; people could’ve died. He had to focus on that.

“You okay?” you said.

“Fine. Just hungry and tired.”

And because he couldn’t help it, he leaned in for another kiss, this time lingering. Then he turned for the residential wing, stomach still roiling. He hoped Natasha watched him go.

That would show her to talk about threesomes with you.

**. . .**

The next week, Steve stared at the ceiling from his supine position on the bed as he played a slow game of toss and catch with his phone. He’d moved into your room a while ago on account of your claiming the views from your room were better than his. You were right about that.

He paid his motions with the phone little mind. He was too preoccupied with the revelations from the week before and, for better or worse, with his schedule having just cleared up, he had enough time to dwell on said revelations.

You’d never had a threesome, or so you’d said. That didn’t mean you weren’t interested.

_Two hot guys who both want you and who’ll both take care of you in that way…_

He was just barely able to hold back from crushing the phone with his bare hands.

There were times when he had to display his assertion in everyday life, but he wasn’t a violent man by nature. But even the mere thought of you wanting another man, of having another man bear witness to your flesh and your pleasure had him seeing…not red. No. Something darker. Black.

Still, a small part of him couldn’t help but agree with something else you’d said. That fantasizing could be different from actually wanting. So it was entirely possible that you had no real desire to take pleasure in two men at once.

Natasha had said every guy alive fantasized about threesomes, and the rest of the conversation had implied that it was usually with two women and not another man. He’d be a liar and a hypocrite if he said the fleeting thought hadn’t crossed his mind at least one time in his life. But it was from quite literally a lifetime ago, and they were the idle musings of a curious young man who was interested in girls but didn’t know a damn thing about them. It had never been a serious desire.

And that realization was well before he even met you. But then he did, and then he fell head over heels, and then he experienced the unparalleled completion of having you beneath him, and then there was no going back. You were it. He would’ve been sure of that even without sharing your bed.

He was a one-woman man, and you were all he needed. Maybe he still didn’t know much about women, but he knew about you and him, and he knew in his bones that you were it for him. And while he didn’t possess the gift of foresight, he knew you were all he would ever need, and nothing would change that. Not when you were over the hill, not when you were both old and gray, not when you’d spent a whole lifetime together and were etched into each other’s souls.

It was non-negotiable. You were his, just like he was yours.

And yet, the thought gnawed at him. He was aware that some couples liked to experiment, to, quote unquote, spice things up in the bedroom. All this time, he’d been secure and proud in his ability to keep you more than sated, and something male in him was secretly pleased whenever you could hardly walk the next day. But what if he’d been oblivious all along and it turned out you needed a little something…extra and were too afraid to bring it up? He wouldn’t be able to handle it if that were the case. He could never agree to something like that. He just couldn’t.

The bedroom door suddenly opened and you appeared in the doorway.

“Steve, what are you doing? Why aren’t you dressed yet? We’re heading out in thirty minutes!”

He sat up leisurely, taking in your outfit. You’d gotten ready in Wanda’s room and he was just now seeing you all gussied up. You were in a periwinkle blue cocktail dress. He knew the shade only because you’d told him when you got it.

“We’ll be fashionably late,” he said. “No one’ll miss me.”

“Stop being dramatic and get dressed. You know how important tonight is!” With another flurry, you shut the door.

The evening’s occasion was to take place down at the Met. It was in honor of another whole year of the team being together.

He’d initially balked at the idea. He wasn’t trying to be celebrated. He didn’t want to be celebrated. But you managed to convince him that though you felt the same at first, you realized that in a world of uncertainty, another year together was, in fact, something worth celebrating. The grandiosity of it all was another story, but Tony had assured him that all proceeds would go toward charity.

The party was also, some had said, a good way to maintain public favor. Public approval of the Avengers was generally pretty high, but the ones who opposed the way the team went about handling things made no bones about vocalizing their opinions. He had no control over how people felt about the team, and he had no desire whatsoever to play politician, so he was going only for the rest of the team.

And judging by the looks on everyone’s faces as he stood in the Great Hall of the Met two hours later, it seemed that everyone present was already perfectly happy to be there.

He stood with a small cluster of people, nursing a glass of champagne and doing his best to focus on the conversation at hand. However, it was proving more and more difficult when he noted the way you’d been standing across the room with the same man for fifteen minutes, give or take, just the two of you.

It went without saying that you certainly didn’t need permission to talk to anyone. Still, it didn’t stop his fingers from clamping around his glass a little too tightly or his other hand from clenching into a fist inside his pocket when he saw the way the man made you smile and laugh.

The guy was good-looking and he couldn’t take his eyes off you. He could see how a woman would be interested. Was this the type of man you’d happily welcome into your shared bed if given the opportunity?

At the mere thought, his chest rose and fell more noticeably over his suit. Hot blood pumped through his veins, igniting the unbelievable wave of jealousy overtaking him. He was generally good about keeping his emotions in check, but he was near powerless in combatting the overwhelming need to go over there and take you away or take the other guy out. Both would be fine with him.

He wore a nice navy piece, no tie. To the outside world, he appeared polished and civilized. Inside, however, some latent, primitive beast roared, fighting to get to its mate. To take you by the waist and make it clear to the other man in no uncertain terms that you were his. The beast was unthinking, driven purely by primal instinct.

Beside him, Sam peered discreetly at him, eyes following his line of sight, though he said nothing.

Steve kept his unmitigated focus on the pair across the room. Was he giving you too little credit? Would you even be interested in inviting the man into your bed when you’d just met him tonight? Or was he being prudish, not realizing that plenty enough people seemed to do just that and that it was a matter between only the parties involved, and no one else had room to judge as long as it was between consenting adults?

Except the fact of the matter was that he’d never consent to it. So long as he lived and breathed, he would never even think to share you with another man. Never. Would die before that ever happened.

His tongue was thick in his mouth when he forced a swallow. He had to get a hold of himself.

He was on his way to doing just that, though his eyes kept sliding back to where you were still talking with that same damn guy.

Then someone passing by caught your attention and you turned your head to offer a hello, and the man reached out a hand to your arm to shift your attention back to him. His hand lingered, sliding down your skin until it fell away. Even the most innocent person would see the interest in that single touch.

Steve saw black.

“Whoa,” Sam murmured. “Dude’s got some kind of confidence to be trying that with her.”

Confidence. Or maybe a death wish.

The man had stepped closer, and he was now within a foot of your personal space. He seemed to be teasing you about something, and he reached out to tap your bare arm again.

Without thinking, Steve was already on the move.

“Hey, man, I’m sure she’s got it. Steve—”

He hardly heard Sam. He disposed of his drink somewhere along the way and moved across the hall with purposeful strides, cutting through the crowds with the ease and fluidity of a hunter honed in on his prey.

When he turned up, the man was still looking at you with that flirty smile, while your head snapped to the side when you noticed his approach.

“Steve—”

That was all you got out before he took you by the waist and covered your mouth with his. You didn’t push him away, but you might’ve been in shock that he’d just shown up out of nowhere and kissed you like that in front of a stranger. But after a stretched out moment of no discernible reaction, you kissed him back at the last second, and the beast inside him growled in satisfaction.

So the beast’s woman recognized herself as its mate. Good.

He felt your hands press gently against his chest, coaxing him back. He complied and drew back, keeping an arm around your waist.

“Uh, Steve.” Avoiding either man’s gaze, you cleared your throat and gestured vaguely to the other man. “Say hi to Noah. The man you decided to maul me in front of just now.”

Some part of him inwardly flinched. Had it been insanely immature of him to do what he’d just done? Did it scream insecurity? He should’ve cared. Normally, he would care. But in that moment, he was past caring.

You gave him a pointed look, and he knew you were angling for an apology. To whom, he wasn’t quite sure.

“We’re sorry about that, Noah,” you said when it became clear no apology was coming.

We? Like hell he was sorry.

He squeezed your waist as a warning when you looked not at him, but at the other man. You ignored it.

“He doesn’t usually do that. It wasn’t quite the introduction I imagined making between the two of you.”

Noah forced a chuckle, clearly unsure how to respond. “Uh, yeah, no problem. I didn’t realize you two were, you know, together.”

“Well, we are,” Steve said. He offered a hand. “Steve.”

“Yeah—yeah, I know. Nice to meet you.” Noah shook his hand. He wasn’t so flirty anymore.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but I think something’s just come up,” you said. You still weren’t looking at him. “We should probably get going. It was really great meeting you, though.”

“Yeah, you, too.” Noah looked like he wanted to say more, but you were already extracting yourself from Steve’s grip and grabbing his hand, walking him out of there like the zombie apocalypse was at your heels.

You wound through the room with him following, dropping his hand like a hot potato when you were out of Noah’s view. Steve’s brow lowered at the curt gesture. Rationally, he knew you had every right to be angry, but he’d be damned if some other guy thought he could make a move on his girl with him right across the room.

You kept moving, not even glancing back at him. He didn’t like it when you ignored him. Not one bit.

He grabbed your hand, and the moment he did, you whirled on him.

“Damn it, Steve, what the hell was that?” Though your voice was lowered in volume, the ire in your tone was clear as day.

“What, me making sure Mr. Handsy over there knows you’re not available?”

“He touched my arm, Steve, and if that made me uncomfortable, I would’ve put a stop to it. And when I realized he was interested, I was going to let him know not to go there until you showed up like some sort of barbarian and completely embarrassed me. Do you even know how that looked? I mean, are you kidding me right now, Steve?” You whirled back around.

“Uncomfortable? Only if you were uncomfortable?”

You paused and twisted around to face him, scowling. “What?”

He stepped closer so others couldn’t hear, a dark expression marring his face. “You would’ve put a stop to it only if it made you uncomfortable? Not because you’re already with me?”

“That’s what you got from this conversation? Are you seriously questioning my faithfulness to you right now, Steve? Because if so, you do _not_ want to have this conversation with me right here and now, I promise you that.” You shook your head. “I can’t believe this.”

You turned for the exit. He wanted to tear his hair out at his own stupidity and loss of control over the whole situation. How had he fucked it up so much in such a short span of time?

He was right at your back as you stepped out the building, following your path as you walked down the numerous steps.

“Fuck—no,” he said. “Listen, I’m sorry, all right? I’m being an irrational idiot. I’m not saying that, not even a little bit. You know how it works with you and me.”

“Yeah, that we’re supposed to trust each other, right? That we’ve never had a problem with that before?” You paused halfway down the steps, and he followed suit. You turned to face him. “Look, if it’s about jealousy, you have nothing to worry about, okay? You never have.”

You stared at each other, stood there on the steps of the Met while the party continued just beyond its doors.

The words were on the tip of his tongue. He was so close to just spilling everything, about how in the span of a week he’d seen things from a new angle all thanks to the conversation he wished he’d never walked in on and about how it brought out intense, unspeakable emotions in him. He wanted to tell you about how his chest grew so tight he could barely breathe when he saw you with that man, laughing with him, giving him your attention. It had been an unfamiliar emotion before he met you, but he was far past trying to convince himself that he wasn’t a downright greedy bastard when it came to you.

The words never came.

You just stared at him a little longer, waiting. Then, looking away, you said, “Look, you think you could get a ride back with one of the others? I can’t…I just need to be alone right now.”

If he thought the black emotion that rose from the depths of his core whenever he thought of you with another man was bad, it was nothing compared to the realization that you couldn’t stand to even be around him.

He nodded faintly, his voice deep and gravelly. “Yeah.”

Without another word, you turned away and descended the steps, waiting for the valet to fetch the car at the bottom. He remained where he was on the steps, silently keeping watch over your figure as guests walked past him in and out of the museum.

Eventually, you slid into the driver’s seat, but before you did, you glanced up, and even from the distance, he knew you were looking at him.

He was at a loss as to what to do.

All he knew as he watched you drive off into the night was that the one kind of loss he wouldn’t be able to bear was you.

**. . .**

The world was quiet when he slipped into the room well past midnight.

You were on your stomach, hands sequestered underneath the pillow, the blanket half on and half off your body. He knew that position. He knew it meant you were having trouble sleeping.

At the sound of the door opening, you didn’t bother to feign sleep. You lifted your head sideways as though to make out who it was, waited a moment, then said in a soft, defeated voice, “Go away.”

It made his heart clench.

He closed the door as softly as he’d opened it and crossed the room with silent steps. He was in a plain t-shirt and boxers as he slipped down next to you, remaining on his back on top of the covers. You turned your head away.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m an idiot.”

“You already said that.” Your voice was slightly muffled by the pillow.

“I need you to know I mean it. Look, I…” He shifted his head to look your way, though you obviously weren’t looking back. “I wasn’t saying I don’t trust you. Not at all. It’s…”

“Are you really about to say it’s not me, it’s the other men?”

Even in the middle of his apology, hearing the words “other men” from your lips had a flare of possessiveness racing through him.

“But it’s true,” he said. “That’s really how it is. Trusting you completely doesn’t stop me from getting jealous. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to make sure every man in any given vicinity knows you’re mine. If that makes me overbearing, if it makes me insane…then I guess that’s what I am. But I’m never going to be okay with other guys wanting you.”

“Steve, you are severely overestimating my desirability. Like, it’s almost laughable. You act like every guy on earth wants me or something. Trust me, you have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t—”

“I’m not fishing for compliments.” You’d finally turned back to face him. “I’m just stating the truth.”

“There’s no way you can tell me you haven’t noticed men looking before.”

“Okay, so some of them have, but I’m with you. I want you, and I swear I still think it can’t be real sometimes ’cause in no world would you ever be interested in me and I can’t even believe you’re worried and—basically what I’m saying is, if anyone should be getting stupid and jealous, it’s me.”

“What?”

“Steve. You’re you. Strip away the shield and everything else and you’re still you, and girls will still trip all over themselves just to be near you. There are millions of girls better than me out there who want you, and deep down I guess I still don’t get why you chose me, and—” You groaned, digging your face into the pillow. “I was never supposed to say this.”

“Say it.”

“No.”

He shifted onto his side, urging you on with a hand resting warmly on your back. “Baby, say it.”

“No, you were never supposed to know.”

“Well, too late now. Might as well finish. You were saying something incredibly dumb about there being millions of girls out there.”

Silence.

“Baby,” he said.

“If you want to get technical, billions, not millions.”

“Yeah, so there are billions of other girls out there. You just feel like stating a statistical fact tonight?”

“Don’t do that, Steve. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You were pretty much saying the exact same thing about guys.”

“And that’s what gets me. That you don’t get just how twisted around you have it.” He pressed closer, sliding his arm from your back to wrap it around your waist. His face was closer, as well as his voice. “You want to know what’s really laughable? That you think any of those other girls even play into this at all. That you don’t get just how greedy I am when it comes to you. It’s not the most enlightened thing to admit out loud, but hell if I don’t feel it. It drives me crazy that I can’t control how other guys think of you ’cause I don’t want them to think of you. Sure as hell not like that. It makes me crazy. And then I heard you talking with Natasha that one day about…threesomes and it…drove me even crazier, I guess.”

You reared back. “Wait, you heard that?”

He nodded.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough. I heard her say every guy fantasizes about threesomes and then I heard you talk about…you know. Being with another guy.” He didn’t think there would ever come a day when it wouldn’t toss him down a dark abyss just thinking about it.

“Well, then you heard me say fantasizing about it is different from seriously wanting it. Wait, Steve, you…you think I want to have a threesome?”

He tightened his grip around your waist, eyes dark as he looked at you head-on. “Do you?”

“I mean…no. Steve, baby.” You surprised him with a laugh and reached out to cup his cheek. “I’m happy with you. Just you. You have nothing to worry about. Never have. Please trust me on this.”

The beast inside him purred with satisfaction.

“Got to say, though,” you said, “I would be on board for a little three-way action if you actually agreed, and—”

You yelped when he used that iron grip on your waist to flip you over entirely so you landed on your back. He was on top of you in under a second.

“Don’t even joke about that. There’s no way you’re getting another man in this room. No way.”

“Who says it has to be in this room?”

The muscles in his cheek twitched, his blood quickly heating.

“Oh my god, baby, I’m kidding.”

“Don’t tease me like that. It doesn’t do good things to me.”

“Yes, captain.”

He pressed closer, caging you in with his body so you couldn’t get away.

“So ever since you heard that conversation, you’ve thought I might want a threesome?” you said.

The weighted silence was answer enough. Then he remembered something. “When Natasha asked if you were speaking from personal experience and you took a while to answer…did that mean…?”

You snorted. “No. Not from personal experience. You didn’t see my reaction when she asked that. I was trying to figure out a way to avoid answering and I knew I couldn’t, but I didn’t really want to get into my sex life with her, either. So I just went ahead and answered.”

At that, he was able to breathe a little easier. If he had any say in it, the only man who’d ever be in you, on you, and around you all at the same time would be him.

“And, you know, since we’re already on the subject…” You fiddled with his shirt, avoiding his eye. “Do you ever, you know…think about it? Except in a different way?”

“You mean being with two women?”

Your lips pressed tightly together and you still didn’t look at him. You nodded.

“Sure, if the women are both you.”

You barely refrained from rolling your eyes. “There’s a copout if I ever heard one.”

“Did you or did you not hear everything I just said? You think with how selfish I am over you I’m going to turn around and be a hypocrite by wanting two women?”

“That’s different from not wanting to do it. You’re just saying it’d make you a hypocrite if you did want one.”

“Then no. Full stop. No.”

It took a moment before the tension seeped out of your body, like you were finally allowing yourself to exhale a pent-up breath of relief. “It’s not like I don’t trust you, either. I was just…unsure about that. ’Cause I don’t think I could ever share you, either.”

“You won’t ever have to.”

“When I heard Natasha say that, it wasn’t like it was the first time it’d ever occurred to me, that you might also…think about stuff like that, and it killed me. I never intended to bring it up if I could help it, but here we are, I guess.”

“If I can’t stand the thought of sharing you, why would I ever expect you to do the same with me?” He watched as his fingers played idly with your hair. “If you knew what goes on in my head when it comes to you, how I get, and I mean truly get…you’d never even think of it again. You’re everything I need. Always will be.”

“‘Always’ is a heavy word.”

“And it exists for a reason. ’Cause some things in the world hold true no matter what. When you say ‘always’ about some things, you mean it, and when I talk about always with you, I mean it.”

You cupped his nape, stroking the length of his jaw with your thumb, and the look in your eyes as you lay beneath him had his heart missing a beat. “I love you, you know.”

He was so tempted to just drop his forehead to yours and ask you to marry him right then and there. The urge was so strong, the words poised to leave his lips. He wanted nothing more than to see his ring on your finger, to let the world know you were his.

He swallowed the words back.

_Later. Another time._

“I love you, too.”

For tonight, this was more than enough.


End file.
